Harry James Granger?
by tomato
Summary: An accident in Charms class gives Harry a chance he'd never even dreamed of. Will he be able to leave when the time comes? Title may be deceiving.


Harry James … Granger?  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I own most of the characters contained herein. I will have to invent a few teachers and students, though, so whoever you don't recognize, assuming you're fairly familiar with the Harry Potter fandom, is probably my own creation. And no, I have no intention of making this a dreaded Mary-Sue, perish the thought.  
Note: ff.n keeps eating my italics. I dunno what to do. *shrug*  
Note2: Thanks for the tip, kateydidnt. I fixed it. 1969 had to have been a good year. XD  
  
Chapter 1: Things Go Horribly Wrong  
  
Charms class was usually interesting, and today would be no exception. They were learning about Youthful Charms, a surprise lesson, as it wasn't even in the textbook. Professor Flitwick had given them all prunes to turn back into plums. The charm could be used on humans as well, but Professor Flitwick knew to expect some trouble with Neville Longbottom in the class; there was no need for him to add to it. It was the fourth year for Harry Potter and his closest friends Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger.   
"The trick," Professor Flitwick explained, "is to think of returning the prune to it's former state, as it once was, in the past. Don't forget to enunciate, it's very important. The incantation is a simple one, recurro adulescentia." The class repeated it until he was satisfied with their pronunciation. "Now, please try," Professor Flitwick instructed them. Hermione lifted her wand and began the incantation. Just as she did, however, the door burst open noisily and Professor Snape stepped in. Startled, Hermione yelped and turned to see what had happened, as did most of the other students in the class. Her incomplete charm, however, shot from her wand and flew directly at Harry. He looked at his friend in surprise, then simply disappeared.   
  
Slowly, Harry became aware of his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was how disoriented and sore he felt, as though his enormous cousin Dudley had tripped and landed on him. That couldn't possibly be the case, though, he quickly realized. He was at Hogwarts! His muggle relatives refused to even talk about his school, so it was highly unlikely that they would stop by just to drop Dudley on him. So, opening his eyes, he looked around. He was in the hospital ward at Hogwarts. Something looked different, though... He checked, he was still wearing his glasses (which had been repaired by Hermione after they'd been broken once again). Madam Pomfrey bustled in then, while Harry was still puzzling over what was different.   
"You're awake!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, looking pleased. "None the worse for the wear, either. I'll call Dumbledore..." After checking to see if Harry had a fever, she left once more. Harry watched the door shut, thinking that she had looked much younger. When she returned, a man who was unquestionably Albus Dumbledore walked in with her. However, he looked different as well, and drastically so. His usual silver hair and beard were instead the reddish colour that Harry had seen in Tom Riddle's memories, but now streaked with the more familiar silver.   
"Oh, I see now," Harry blurted. "Those youthful charms must have been done all over the school."   
Professor Dumbledore gazed at him thoughtfully. "How curious it is," he stated, "that you seem to recognize me, and yet, I don't recall having ever met you."   
"Er... Professor?" Harry looked at Dumbledore in confusion. "You're joking?" Dumbledore smiled. He seemed quite intrigued.   
"Ah, the things a headmaster of Hogwarts encounters," he said pleasantly. "Might I inquire as to your name?"   
"My name? It's Harry - you mean you really don't know me?" Harry asked. Dumbledore shook his head.   
"I suppose the real question is... which year do you believe it to be?"   
Harry stared at Dumbledore. "Which year? But, I can't be in the past!"   
"And yet, here you are, in 1969," Dumbledore replied. Harry gaped at him, shocked. 1969? That would mean...  
"That can't be! This is a trick, isn't it?"   
"I suppose that's possible," Dumbledore agreed amiably. Just then, the doors burst open, and someone swept in, looking to be in a foul mood. Someone who could be none other than Severus Snape, even though he was much younger than Harry had ever known him.   
"James Potter!" Snape snarled angrily. "Potter and his gang have been at it again..." Harry suddenly noticed that Snape's green, silver and black themed uniform now sported pink polka-dots. "Professor Binns told me you were here, Headmaster. My entire wardrobe is like..." he tugged irritably at the sleeve of his robe, "like this!" Harry tried hard not to laugh, but a snicker escaped and he hastily covered his mouth. Snape noticed him. "There he is," he said more calmly. "Tell the Headmaster what you've done, Potter."   
"This isn't James Potter, Severus," Dumbledore told Snape. "Shall we see about fixing your uniforms, then?"   
"You do look remarkably like James," Madam Pomfrey told Harry, as Dumbledore led Snape out of the room. Harry heard Dumbledore asking Snape if he had any proof that James Potter was the one who had meddled with his clothes. Harry merely nodded.   
"So which year are you from? The past, or the future?" She asked him. After seeing a younger Snape yelling about James Potter, Harry had to admit that it was possible he had found himself in the past. He opened his mouth to reply, then hesitated. Was it really a good idea to be so open about where he came from, if it was indeed the future? He could see Draco Malfoy, and possibly Professor Snape playing this sort of cruel joke on him, but found it impossible to believe that the Headmaster would ever allow, much less participate, in it. And they were talking about his father as though he were still alive...   
"The future, I suppose," Harry said finally. "If this is real..."  
"Do you have any reason to doubt it's real?" Madam Pomfrey asked Harry, regarding him curiously.  
"Only my doubts as to whether any of this could possibly be real," Harry replied. Madam Pomfrey looked at the Gryffindor crest on his robe.   
"You're a student here?"  
"Yes," Harry agreed. "Fourth year." He sighed.  
"It's not so strange, is it? Accidents are always happening in class."  
"Well... I've never heard of anything like this happening before," Harry said weakly.   
"Are you muggle-born?"  
Harry blinked at Madam Pomfrey. He was clueless enough about the wizarding world to have been, but... "No! My mum and dad were both brilliant using magic!" I suppose. I've heard my father was, anyway. Madam Pomfrey looked at him astutely. Harry frowned, annoyed with himself. And now I've just made it sound like my parents are dead. "I meant to say, they are brilliant," Harry corrected, belatedly. Not entirely a lie, if they're alive at this moment. Professor Dumbledore stepped in at that moment, and looked at the two. A flustered pink stained Harry's cheeks, and Madam Pomfrey was still regarding him thoughtfully.  
"Well, I've sorted out Severus' problem," he said after a moment's pause. "I think now it's time to sort out young Harry's situation." He smiled. "Are you feeling well enough to accompany me to my office?"  
"Headmaster, the poor boy, he just-" the Healer looked from Headmaster to student. "Well, I've no idea what he's just gone through but no doubt he's feeling a little disoriented."  
Harry chuckled. "I've felt worse, actually." He grinned at the two before him sheepishly. Madam Pomfrey's eyebrows shot into her hairline.   
"Accident-prone, are you? Should I get used to seeing you here?"  
"Er, no, nothing like that," Harry said. "I'm just ... unlucky." She continued to look at him skeptically. "Honestly, I don't mess up in class." He hesitated, thinking of Professor Snape's potions class. "Well, no more than your average student, anyway. I've never been sent out of class to the hospital ward." Madam Pomfrey sighed dramatically.   
"Fine, you may take him, Headmaster. Don't think I won't be ready with more questions next time you come here, Harry of no last name!"  
Harry couldn't help but smirk. "I'll be ready with more answers next time I come here, Madam Pomfrey." He followed Dumbledore out of the hospital ward, and along the familiar route to his office silently.  
  
"Fizzing Whizbees," Dumbledore gravely said to the gargoyles standing guard in front of his office. They obligingly moved out of the way, as Harry grinned to himself. Dumbledore enjoyed sweets – both muggle and wizard – at least as much as or perhaps more than any of the students in the school; this was reflected by the usual passwords the headmaster chose to guard his office. Dumbledore moved behind his desk and sat, motioning for Harry to sit in the chair that was placed before his desk as he did so. Harry obliged, looking around. The same portraits of the previous headmasters snoozed all around them, some of them snoring loudly. Many of the objects in the office were the same as Harry had expected: Fawkes sat serenely on his perch, watching the two with curiousity; many silver instruments spun, whirred, and clacked, occasionally emitting smoke or sparks as they did so; but the general arrangement was different, and a few things were not there, though Harry was not so familiar with the Headmaster's office s to be able to identify the missing objects. Quite aside from the absence of Gryffindor's sword, Harry felt as though he was sitting in the same office he'd sat in so many times before.  
I guess in a round-about way, this is the first time I've ever sat in his office, Harry thought, turning his gaze once more to the Headmaster, who sat patiently. Dumbledore smiled at Harry, gazing at him over his half-moon spectacles, his eyes twinkling. Harry fervently hoped that Dumbledore wouldn't treat him like some sort of intriguing object to be picked apart and examined at his leisure. Harry then shook his head at his own foolishness; while others might treat him that way (if he told them the truth), he knew Dumbledore never would.  
"Er," Harry said eloquently. He looked at Dumbledore. Madam Pomfrey was full of questions! I don't know where I should start…  
"I suppose the best place to start would be for me to ask you where – or rather, when you are from." His gaze fell to the Gryffindor emblem on Harry's robe. "I think it is safe to assume you are a student of Hogwarts."  
"That's right," Harry agreed, relieved. "I'm in my fourth year here. Or, I was. In the year 2000..."  
"And you now find yourself twenty-five years in the past," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "How did this come about?"  
"Well, I was in Charms class," Harry said with a sigh. "We were learning Youthful Charms, when Professor S- er, the Potions professor, burst into the room and startled the class. One of my friends hit me with her spell, and well, here I am." Harry paused. "Hermione's always brilliant though, don't hold it against her or anything, it was just an accident."  
Dumbledore nodded. "Perfectly understandable. Even the most skilled witches and wizards have been known to make the occasional mistake." He looked over his glasses at Harry and smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Even I have made a mistake or two in my time." Harry grinned. "So now we know the how, I feel that I must ask the next obvious question: what is your name?"  
"My- my name, professor? Is that really wise?" Harry asked, blinking at Dumbledore. Dumbledore looked at him pensively.   
"Perhaps not, you are right. It is a relief to know that you already know the particular intricacies of time travel." He folded his hands together on his desk. "I shall rephrase, then: what name do you wish to go by?"  
Harry stared at Dumbledore for a moment. He's telling me to go by a fake name? What, then? Harry… I already said my name was Harry. But Harry what? Weas- no, the Weasleys are pureblood, their name would be well known and anyone would know just by looking that I wasn't a Weasley. "Harry… Harry James Granger," he said at last. Sorry, Hermione.  
Dumbledore smiled at him brightly. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Harry James Granger," he said, dropping the Sorting Hat onto Harry's head. Harry jumped a little in surprise.  
Well, it's not September yet, the Hat thought to Harry. You seem to remember being Sorted before? I don't remember you, though…  
I was in the future then, Harry thought to the hat.  
The future, I see, the Sorting Hat lied. Very well, who am I to argue with myself? "GRYFFINDOR!"  
Harry reached up and took the hat off, handing it back to Dumbledore.   
"I apologize, but one can never be too careful," Dumbledore explained to him. "I'm sure you will get along well with the other fourth-year Gryffindors. I'll see to it that room is made for you in the dorm, and we'll try to get you integrated into the schedule as quickly as possible." Harry nodded. "Oh, one more question: which electives are you taking?"  
"Care of Magical Creatures, and Divination," Harry said. "But, Headmaster, if you don't mind me asking…"  
"Go ahead," Dumbledore acknowledged with a nod.   
"I just… well… do you have any idea how I could get back?"  
"I'm afraid I don't know any spells that could safely transport you back to your own time," Dumbledore said. "If you'd arrived through the use of a Time-Turner, it would be a simple matter of getting you to use one to return, but as it was an incomplete Charm…" He hesitated. "I'd like to wait a while and see if there are any adverse side-effects. Also, I will have to work with our Charms professor to see if we can devise a way of sending you back safely."  
"Alright," Harry said. "I suppose I – I can't ask more than that, can I?" He looked around Dumbledore's office once more. "You must have your hands full without having to worry about looking after some accidental-magic reversal."  
"Sending you to your proper time is a priority," Dumbledore replied. "There are many things I'd like to ask you about – many things – but I know that I must not." He smiled at Harry, a little sadly. "It is a temptation that an old man like me may have difficulty in resisting."  
Harry sighed. "I already know what not to say though… I can't interfere with the past, try to change it, and I can't be seen by myself. I have to say I don't think the last one will be a problem yet, though, as I haven't even been thought of." At least, I suppose not. That would be strange if mum and dad were already planning their family while they were in school. "I can't try to change what's already happened … no matter how much I might want to."  
"Then I suppose we both have things we wish to do but cannot," Dumbledore said quietly. Harry nodded. "The password for the Gryffindor common room is 'Alpha Centauri'. As it's Friday, I think it will be okay if you buy your supplies in Hogsmeade this weekend. I'll make a special exception so you can buy the things you need. It's not technically a Hogsmeade weekend." Harry nodded.  
"I can't pay you back for the things now, though, would it be alright if I pay you back when I get back to my time?"  
"Certainly, certainly," Dumbledore agreed. "You can stop in at the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer too, if you wish. As to what story you tell the students about how you came to be here… Well, that is up to you. I'd like to hear it first, though, if you don't mind. I'll have to inform the staff."  
Harry nodded. He hesitated. He had to come up with a plausible story to why he would be transferring into Hogwarts in the middle of the fourth year?  
"I've… actually never heard of anyone transferring in," Harry said after a pause. "I can't imagine why anyone would come in the middle of the year."  
"Anything at all. Perhaps you were attending Beauxbatons until your family moved away, and they wished to have you at a closer school."  
"Beauxbatons?" Harry repeated. "That sounds like some sort of candy…"  
"It's a wizarding school located somewhere in France," Dumbledore explained. "I'm afraid I really can't give a better estimate of its location than 'somewhere', because they're quite secretive as to their actual location."  
Is it normal for Dumbledore to be this accepting of someone who just appears in the middle of the year, with no real story, just claiming to be from the future? Harry wondered. Why doesn't he suspect me of being a spy from Voldemort, or… He sighed. "Headmaster… sorry if this seems rude, but I can't help but wonder why you're being so accepting of a new student, considering what's – well, what's happening."  
"What's happening?" Dumbledore asked, looking at Harry with a carefully neutral expression. "You may have to be more specific than that."  
"With Voldemort," Harry emphasized. Dumbledore nodded.   
"Yes, it might seem strange. But if you are a spy, I would be hard pressed to prove it, I think. But there is the fact that you appeared in the Charms classroom at lunch time, unconscious, scaring the wits out of Professor Flitwick. It is known, of course, that one cannot simply apparate on school grounds. Also, there were no portkeys found anywhere around you." Dumbledore smiled at Harry encouragingly. "I prefer giving people the benefit of the doubt, and assuming they are not evil, Harry. Rather than the reverse." Harry nodded. He should have figured Dumbledore would check for any evidence of foul play immediately. "Also," Dumbledore added as an after-thought, "I have never met any of Voldemort's followers who were willing to refer to him as anything other than the 'Dark Lord', 'You-Know-Who', or 'He Who Must Not Be Named'." Harry nodded again. "Additionally, we – of course – checked the area, and you, for any residual traces of any sort of spell. The only one we detected was what seemed like a partially formed Youthful Charm, which your story has confirmed. Since we were able to have a look at the charm before it completely dissolved, we should have an easier time finding a way to send you back where you belong."  
  
  
Next Chapter: Harry meets his dormmates, and Lucius Malfoy makes an appearance.  



End file.
